Forty Seven Years North Of Havana

Freedom of Speech

Dieudonne M’Bala M’Bala, the French comedian better known as Dieudonne, has been arrested and held on charges of apologizing for terrorism in the wake of a Facebook post that referred to last week’s deadly attacks in Paris. (c) Michel Euler/AP

From NPR:

Controversial French comedian Dieudonne has been arrested in the wake of the deadly attack on the satirical weekly Charlie Hebdo and held on charges of apologizing for terrorism. He was one of 54 people held across France; none has been linked to the attacks.

Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez called on authorities Sunday to investigate an article on a critical website that he said appears aimed at inciting a coup.Chavez read aloud from the Noticiero Digital article in which columnist Roberto Carlos Olivares writes that active and former military officers have been meeting to plan an ”inevitable” transition in the country.

Speaking on his weekly broadcast program, Chavez said the piece constitutes an apparent crime and told his vice president, ”This must be investigated urgently.”

World Press Freedom Day (May 3) provides an opportunity for people around the world to celebrate the fundamental human right to freedom of expression, defend the media from attacks on their independence and honor the memory of journalists who have lost their lives because of the peaceful exercise of their right to speak and write freely.

Amnesty International works to protect journalists from harassment and death threats, free them from arbitrary detention and guarantee them their right to freedom of expression. TAKE ACTION now on behalf of these journalists around the world.

On the afternoon of September 24, 2009, Pennsylvania State Troopers, their guns drawn, broke down the door of room 238 of the CareFree Inn on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. The troopers were acting on a search warrant related to protests planned for the G20 summit—a meeting of the heads of state of the world’s major economies. Thousands of protesters had descended on the city, presenting demands ranging from curbs on carbon emissions to the outright abolition of capitalism.

Anticipating hordes of black-masked, Starbucks-smashing anarchists, the Pittsburgh police and the Secret Service coordinated nearly 4,000 law enforcement officers, outfitting them with the latest in riot-dispersal technology. Crowds marching on the summit were met with pepper spray, stun grenades, and—for the first time on US soil—acoustic cannons that blast painful sounds as far as 1,000 feet. But the protesters had their own crowd-control methods, and that’s what had brought the state troopers to the CareFree Inn.

Like this:

I grew up during a time when children’s opinions at home were seldom considered or even allowed. I remember hearing “Children should be seen and not heard,” or the Cuban version of that infamous saying: “Los muchachos hablan cuando las gallinas mean,” which roughly translates into “Children should speak when chickens pee.” In other words, never!

Growing up under a totalitarian regimen, where freedom to speak your mind was reserved only for the Comandante in Chief, didn’t help with the development of my expressive side. The fact that my family had decided early on that we wanted out of the Cuban version of paradise, made it even harder to practice uncensored speech. From that moment on, words spoken in public carried dire implications: anything said could be used by the authorities to delay or obstruct our family’s exit. It was — and still is — very easy to get in trouble in Cuba over a statement made or an opinion expressed that threatens the government’s interest and hold on power.

As a child, I feared getting my family in trouble and I withdrew. Growing up under these conditions, it was hard to know what constituted a violation of the rules and not speaking my mind became synonymous with safety.

I’ve heard the expression “The truth shall set you free,” but growing up I saw examples of what happened to those that dared speak the truth: jail, social isolation, exile and even death. I remember the case of an outspoken young man — a troublemaker, according to the man in charge of neighborhood watch committee — who was taken to the police station for questioning about his anti-government views. He died in custody, when he slipped and “accidentally” cracked his skull against the corner of a desk, dying from a cerebral hemorrhage. And I knew of many more cases where expressing your feelings of frustration or disillusion with the Revolution carried severe consequences. It was easy to find yourself accused of being a counter-revolutionary, an enemy of the state or even a member of the CIA. Those instances became powerful deterrents against any natural desire — as any young person’s instincts dictate — to tell the world what I thought and how I felt.

It is still surprising to me that I chose to become a writer in spite of the negative imprinting I received as a child. Perhaps the decision to write has been my way of finding and reclaiming that part of my soul and my childhood that was robbed by a group of thugs — the same thugs that also stole a half a century from the inheritance of a decent and proud people.

All writers grapple with a sense of obligation to the honesty of our work and with the commitment to speak the truth about our experiences. For most of us, those obligations and commitments must be carefully balanced against the responsibility to protect our families and safeguard their privacy. Occasionally, I still fear that an opinion or position expressed could be used against me or that my written words might bring harm to a loved one.

These are old, negative, but familiar voices. They want me complicit in my own silencing.

But I write on. Every line I put down and each thought I uncover and set forth, in spite of the fears, gets me closer to unveiling my true self.

I was born on the Western end of Cuba but I've lived 75% of my days in this place, north of the Mason-Dixon Line, feeling surprisingly at home, I should add. This may have to do with my long-held suspicion -- confirmed by a dream many years ago -- that I had been a New Englander in a previous life.

I started Cubiyanqui to share my creative efforts and other interests with my friends and the rest of the world. I never suspected that it would take over so much of my life, but hey, I manage. (And if you visit and the date of the last post is older than a week, you'll know that I ain't managing that well).